


They/Them

by Yikes_Writes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Mostly Fluff, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Steve Harrington, Other, Steve is nb and fem presenting in most if not ALL of these, read authors notes for and warnings, this is my emotional support headcanon tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yikes_Writes/pseuds/Yikes_Writes
Summary: A compilation of my nonbinary Steve works.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 117





	1. Anon: Opposites

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> we all know billy’s kind of a dick and steve’s like the opposite and people at school kinda question why steve,who’s so lovely kind and caring is dating someone who’s so cold mean and nasty. but like they don’t know that behind closed doors, billy is so so soft and caring and sweet to his stevie 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Looking at Billy and Steve, as a _couple_ , it was like night and day.

Billy was all rough edges, hard punk and pissed off. He got into fights, yelled at douchebags and flicked cigarette butts at people he didn’t like. He was loud and brash and _angry_.

Steve was, _not that_. They were pastels and honey laughter and short skirts. They hugged with their whole body and left a trail of perfume wherever they went.

So when they started holding hands in the hallway and making out against the freshman lockers, it was the _talk_ of the school.

_Most_ of the talk was about _why_.

Everyone was expecting Billy to dick Steve and then ditch them, break their heart and just _devastate_ them.

But there were these _little moments_ , that no one on the outside could see unless they looked closely.

The way Billy slid love notes into Steve’s locker every day. They way that he kissed their head and walked them to each class.

The way that Billy wouldn’t hesitate to punch the lights out of _anyone_ who talked shit on Steve, didn’t respect their pronouns or identity.

And what people _didn’t see_ , the days when Steve got sad and insecure, and Billy held them for _hours_ , and when Billy let himself be soft and vulnerable. People don’t see the way he plays connect the dots on Steve’s skin, the way he holds them close and tells them he’s never loved _anyone_ as much as he loves them.

Maybe if they knew, how Billy reads to Steve when they get tired and frustrated when the words on the page won’t stay still, how he let’s Steve do Billy’s make up when they have a panic attack until they calm down, maybe if they _knew_ , they wouldn’t question it.


	2. Anon: Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> hey i’m sorry to bother you but could you write some fluffy non-binary Steve? I’m bigender and i’m not really out to anyone and one of my friends made a joke about bigender people and it really just crushed me a little bit, so if it’s not too much to ask could you please write something small and fluffy for me? Sorry to bother you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Steve poked Billy’s stomach.

Billy tried not to move his face, tried not to smile.

Steve poked him again.

“Bill, I _know_ you’re awake.”

He didn’t move.

Steve huffed.

Billy felt their warmth disappear from his side.

And then _all_ the wind was knocked out of him as Steve flopped _right_ on top of him, just let their full body weight slam onto him. 

Billy opened his eyes, glared at them. They smiled _so sweet_ at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Baby. Thanks for such a _sweet_ wake up.”

“You’re welcome.” Billy wrapped his arms around them, closing his eyes again. Steve slapped his chest. “No! Don’t fall asleep! You promised you’d take me to the beach today.”

They had arrived late last night to San Diego, just checked into their hotel and curled up together.

“The beach’ll be there for another hour or two.” Steve began flopping on top of him violently.

“Wanna go to the _beach_.”

“Oh my _God_. Fine! We’ll go!” Steve was off him in a flash, rushing off to the bathroom.

Billy took a deep breath, rolling his eyes as Steve started their _happyhappyhappy_ playlist, super fucking _loud._

Billy rolled dramatically out of bed, plastered himself to Steve’s back as they brushed their teeth. He took the toothbrush out of their hand to brush his _own_ teeth with it.

“That’s _foul_ , Bill.”

“Forgot mine.” Steve rolled their eyes.

They scampered about, packing a bag for the beach. They tossed Billy’s SPF 15 sunscreen in with their own SPF 50.

They got dressed _fast_ , started trailing _close_ behind Billy, just chanting _beach beach beach beach_.

Billy led them out of the hotel, Steve tucked under his arm.

Their hotel was a short walk from the beach, and they stopped on the way to get iced lattes. Steve took a _lot_ of pictures of the two of them.

“Okay, Sweet Thing. Hop on my back, and close your eyes.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “C’mon. Trust me.” They sighed dramatically, but got on his back all the same.

Billy piggybacked them all the way to the edge of the water.

“Open your eyes.”

Billy heard them gasp.

“Oh _wow_.”

Steve had never seen the ocean before.

Billy had tossed their bag on the sand a ways back, so he kept walking into the water, stopping when the waves were batting at his chest.

“You ready?”

“For wha-” Steve _shrieked_ as Billy dunked them both in the water, holding Steve’s legs tight to his waist. He came back up, Steve spluttering and coughing. He shifted them around until he was holding under their ass, face to face.

“Coulda _warned me_.”

“Nah. Wanted your first time in the ocean to be a _surprise_. Now you’ll _never_ forget it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I almost fucking _died_.” Billy kissed their cheek, _loved_ tasting the ocean on their skin.


	3. Request: Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cullen-h-shot asked:
> 
> I'm glad youre feeling better hun!! and congrats on 700 followers holy shit!! you deserve so much love and recognition for what you do and im so glad you're getting it!! you are such an amazing creator and writer and one of my favorite fanfic writers on this site!! also if your up to it could you write a lil nb steve drabble?? literally anything works bcs im lowkey in love with nb/genderqueer steve and the way you write them with harringrove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Steve was sitting in front of their full length mirror, artfully putting on their make up.

Billy was sitting pressed up behind them, his chin hooked over their shoulder.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“I’m using a little bit darker of a shade to contour.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m basically making the shape of my face look different.” They were swiping on the slightly darker makeup along their jawline, under their cheekbones.

“Oh.” Billy just watched as they blended the makeup. “What now?”

“I’m setting it with powder so that I don’t like, sweat it off our anything.” They picked up one of the makeup bags, rifling through it for brushes. “What colors should I do?”

“For your eyes?”

“Yeah.”

“I like it when you do purpley ones. Makes your eyes look real pretty.” They smiled at him in the mirror, shifting to kiss his cheek before moving back to their makeup.

They began blending different shades of deep purples. Billy watched as they layered colors around different parts of their eye. They put a little gold glitter in the inner most corner, made everything _really_ come together.

They took out a thin little brush and a little pot of black.

“Eyeliner?”

“Yep!” Billy held his breath as Steve swiped it on, made it look so fucking _easy_.

“And then you put the eyelashes on?”

“Which ones should I do?” Steve had a collection of them, all immaculately kept in their own little cases.

“I like the big ones.” He pointed at a pair of good sized fluffy ones.

He watched Steve glue them on, shaping them on their eyes with one finger before brushing on mascara.

“Is that all?”

“No, I still gotta do my lips, and then highlight.” Billy kissed their shoulder once, watching as they lined their lips with a light peach, filling in the lines with a matching lipstick.

They shooed him back for a second to spray something on their face.

“What’s that do?”

“It’s setting spray. Just makes sure nothing moves or melts.”

They took a shimmery white powder, dusting it along their cheekbones, their nose and upper lip. Billy coughed and spluttered when he inhaled some of the excess in the air, making Steve laugh for a moment.

“Okay. All done.” They finished blending the highlight powder below their eyebrow, looking at their face from different angles.

“Beautiful. Fucking _beautiful_.” They bat their long eyelashes at him, smiling demurely in the mirror. “Is it bad I just wanna fucking _ruin it_?”

“Uh, _yeah_. Kinda.”

“Sorry. Just horny.”

“When are you _not_?”

“Not my fault I’ve got the most _gorgeous_ fucking s.o. on God’s green Earth.” Steve shoved him a little.

“Oh, _shut up_.”


	4. Anon: Burlesque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Imagine Steve or Billy working in a burlesque theater???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

It’s not that Billy’s job was _difficult_ for him, it’s just that he sometimes had a hard time focusing on what he was _actually_ supposed to be doing.

He had been working at the theater for close to a month now, had gotten a hang of tending bar quickly, making sure the patrons always had fresh drinks and any finger snacks they could want.

He had found the old theater accidentally, scouring the city for _any_ help wanted after the restaurant he was busing tables at closed for good. Billy had waited tables, had been a bus boy, had worked construction, had done just about _everything_ to scrape up some money. The theater paid him enough to cover tuition _and_ his share of rent for the dingy apartment he shared with three other guys.

He was _good_ when the girls were dancing. Could stay focused on making drinks, liked to watch solely for the objective beauty in their bodies, their movements, but when the lights in the club went _just_ a touch dimmer, and when the final performer took the stage, Billy was _useless_.

He didn’t know much about the performer, had only crossed paths with them a few times as he brought water back to the dressing rooms after the show. Knew their stage name was _Bambi_ , that they had _long_ lean legs and _big_ dark eyes.

Billy knew that when they danced, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

They wore the most _beautiful_ delicate lingerie, kept to pastels and off-white, would dance and slowly pull of garments. They would come off the stage, interact with the patrons of the theater, sometimes allow strange hands to pull off a silky stocking, or sit on a random lap to unhook a bra.

Sometimes they would use the large silks, would climb them, twist up in them until they were luxuriating above the stage. But Billy’s _favorite_ was when they used the Lyra, the suspended hoop to dance.

They knew _exactly_ what to do with their body as they took the hoop, kept it in one hand as they stepped about the stage, would let their weight go, suspending on the hoop for a moment to swing to the other side of the stage.

They would climb into the hoop, would writhe into poses and positions, send expensive looking garments to the floor below them as they twisted their body elegantly above the crowd.

Billy was _staring_ as they spun the hoop, upside down and holding onto the bottom of it, long legs open in a split, and he dropped the fucking jar of maraschino cherries.

The music was loud enough to cover the fucking _crash_ of breaking glass, but Billy flew to clean up the mess, hands shaking as they gathered up broken glass.

By the time he had thrown most of it away, the performer was gone, the closing number beginning.

He continued cleaning up the _huge_ fucking mess as the patrons were ushered out, as the lights were turned on.

He was _scrubbing_ at the sticky patch when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He whipped around to see Bambi, still in stage makeup, ut wearing a chunky sweater and black sweatpants.

“You didn’t bring us water today.” Billy rolled his eyes. This _brat_ really thought Billy had _nothing_ better to do than to bring ice water to performers? That he _really_ didn’t have his _own_ duties? “I’m so sorry, that sounded rude. You just do it every night, and I was worried.” They were avoiding Billy’s eyes, fidgeting with a glass on the bar top.

“Nah, that’s okay. You want a water?” Billy was already scooping ice into a glass. Bambi slid into a stool as Billy placed the full glass in front of them.

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to sound pushy, I just always wait for you. Most of the girls have gone home and you didn’t come by. Thought maybe you had gotten hurt or something.”

“Just a made a _giant_ fucking mess back here. Was too distracted by your dancing. You’re real talented.” Their cheeks went red.

“Um, thank you, Billy.” Billy furrowed his brows. Bambi just pointed at the black name badge pinned to his shirt, his name spelled out in elegant cursive.

“Forgot about that. What’s your name, then?”

“Steve.” Billy laughed.

“ _Really_? I was expecting some ethereal name, like something from Greek mythology or the Bible or some shit.”

“Steven is about the best my Indiana republican parents could do.” Billy snorted a laugh, made Steve smile nice and wide at him.

“So that’s where you from? Indiana?”

“Small town outside of Indianapolis. Haven’t been back in _years_. Ran as far as I could once I came out.”

“How long you been here?”

“In this city? about five years. Here? Close to four and a half. I used to do makeup backstage until some of the ladies taught me how to dance.”

“I like watching you. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

“I always notice you watching. You don’t watch the others like you watch me.” Billy leaned on his elbows over the bar top, making himself eye level with Steve.

“The others aren’t as gorgeous as you.” Steve went a _deep_ shade of red, leaning back to sip their water, ended up choking a little bit in the process. Billy laughed, throwing them a wink as he went back to cleaning the cherry mess.

“Do you need help?”

“I got it, Sweet Thing.” Another little splutter. Billy grinned to himself. “Although, you _did_ cause this whole mess. You were just so fucking _perfect_ up there, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, ended up dropping cherries everywhere.” He gave one last wipe to the now _spotless_ floor, tossing the towel in the dirty bin for washing.

He grinned at Steve, looking like a pretty little deer caught in headlights, _really_ living up to that stage name.

“I guess you’re just too sexy.” Steve’s breath hitched, their face going so fucking _red_ , Billy could _swear_ he felt heat coming off of it.

“I, um, are you, can I have your phone number?” Billy reached for a napkin, writing his number and signing it with _xx Billy_.

“You better use that. I’ll be waiting for your call.” They laughed nervously, downing the rest of their ice water before grabbing their bag from the stool next to them.

“Or, you know. We could always just skip _right_ to the date.”

“What you got in mind?”

“Drinks at my place?”

‘You’re on. Just don’t let me get near any jars of cherries.” Billy locked up the register, quickly gathering his stuff before vaulting over the bar, leading Steve out with one hand on the small of their back.


	5. Anon: Dress Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> what do you think about a crossdressing Steve? Maybe he started just liking the soft fabrics of his mom's clothes but then he started wearing them as a way to attempt to hold on to the feigned affection she gave him. Eventually he just got his own stuff because they helped him feel calmer, softer. He would only ever put them on when he believed he would be alone for a while to cook or do chores... And then one day Billy comes over. Do with it what you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

When Steve was a little kid, he always preferred playing with the girls.

They would have clothes for dress-up, princess dresses, and pirate costumes, anything _any_ child could want. They had wigs, makeup, crowns. Little girls also had babydolls, little pretend kitchens he would play in, plastic baby bouncing at his hip.

When his nanny would come to pick him up from Carol’s house, she would have wipes in the car, to clean off his face. _Your father will be_ very disappointed _if he sees you playing with girls’ things again, Steven._ He learned very quickly that playing dress-up, wanting to be _Mommy_ when playing house, those are _not_ things little _boys_ did.

He remembers fighting with his parents, when they found the little plastic case of goopy lipglosses Carol had let him keep. He was seven years old and was crying, had _screamed_ as loud as he could that if little boys weren’t allowed to play with makeup, then _maybe I don’t want to_ be _a boy_.

When his parents started leaving him more often, their absences growing longer the older he got, he began going into his mother’s things, trying on her clothes. He was twelve when he first learned that women’s clothes were made of finer materials, were softer, felt like _butter_ against his skin. He was thirteen and would slip into designer dresses each night, learning makeup from YouTube tutorials, practicing with things left in his mother’s vanity and whatever he could discreetly put in his pockets at Meldvald’s.

He got pretty good. Good enough that at sixteen, he wanted _more_ , would go to stores in Indianapolis, would spend his allowance on dresses, skirts, blouses, frilly little things that _fit_ , that made him feel _good_ , _correct_.

The first time he put on a pair of lacy panties, he almost cried. the material was soft, the cotton tight and nice against him, the delicate lace trimming the waist and legs was _pretty_. Steve realized, all he _ever_ wants to be in his life is _pretty_.

He began thinking of himself as a girl, a _young woman_. He would tuck his dick back, make the space between his legs flat, let his hair grow out more, long enough to braid, to pin with floral clips.

He started dressing up, going out. Finding bars that would let him in if he batted his false eyelashes _just so_ , would overlook his _obviously_ _fake_ I.D. so that he could go in, talk to men that were too old for him, too interested in his doe eyes, his soft cheeks, men that would buy him drinks, fuck him in the back seats of their cars, whisper about how _pretty_ he looked, men that would touch his cock and coo that his _pussy was so tight.  
_

He found he didn’t like _that_ but would grit his teeth, didn’t understand _why_ wearing women’s clothes felt so _right_ but the idea of _having_ a women’s body felt _wrong_. He didn’t _get_ why he felt the most himself, the most _comfortable_ with his dick tucked up in lace panties, but the _minute_ a man told him he was _a good girl_ he felt sick. 

When he was seventeen, he stopped going out, stopped _dressing up_. He had Nancy now, a beautiful young woman who wanted a nice, regular young _man_. He almost told her, almost told her _so many times_ , but then she was drunk, slurring in his face that he was _bullshit_ , that he was _fake_ , like he didn’t already _know_.

So he kept to himself, started dressing up again, putting on a full face, a delicate outfit the _minute_ he got home. He would dance around while cooking diner, would float around the house in heels and sweeping dresses. They made him feel _better_ , feel _good_. He would dress up on _particularly_ bad days, would wear his most beautiful pieces when he got poor grades, when his father told him he was a disappointment over the phone. He had been informed today by his English teacher she had assigned him a _tutor_.

So he had blinked back tears while blending eyeshadow, had put on his prettiest dress, a pretty dark green number, the fabric light, delicate _feminine_. He was ready to wallow in self-pity and makeup when there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of his something-like-a-friend Billy Hargrove, announcing with a laugh that _you should REALLY start lockin’ your front door, Harrington. Wouldn’t want someone UNSAVORY comin’ in_.

Steve was _frozen_ in the kitchen, his best-kept secret all over his face, his body. Billy didn’t even blink twice when he saw Steve, asked _what’s cookin’?_ while leaning over the stove. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, breathing fast when Billy looked back, took Steve’s shoulder lightly in his hands said, _you need to breathe, Sweet Thing, take it slow, match me_. He rubbed gently down Steve’s arms, his eyes clear blue when Steve was able to open his own teary ones.

“Billy, you need to _swear_ to me you won’t tell, you, I, people can’t _know_. They’ll, I mean, I _know_ I’m a fucking _freak_ but no one-”

“Whoa, who said you’re a _freak_?” Billy’s eyes were sharp.

“ _Look_ at me, Billy. I’m, I don’t know _what_ I am. Sometimes, sometimes I wish that I was a _girl,_ but, but something about that feels just, _bad_ , but, but being a fucking _boy_ feels like shit _too_ , and I just,” he was sobbing, loudly and openly, knew his dark liner was no doubt _streaming_ down his face.

“Hey, that’s okay, Honey, you don’t _have to_ know. You just have to feel _good_.” He led Steve in a few more breaths. “It’s not black and white, you don’t have to be one or the other. You can just be _you_. Can be _Steve_ , if you want.”

“What-I don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t feel _right_ as a boy, but you feel just as _not right_ as a girl. There’s more than that. You have more _options_.” He turned off the stove, led Steve to his bag, whipping out a laptop covered in worn stickers. “So basically, there’re a whole bunch of genders.” He pulled up an infographic on his screen, a color-coded mess of columns and descriptions. “There’s _way_ more than man and woman. There are people who are non-binary, don’t adhere to the idea of two genders. Sometimes non-binary people identify as another gender, a _third_ gender, sometimes they identify as a mixture of identities. Agender people often identify as having _no_ gender at all. genderfluid people tend to fluctuate between identities, can feel agender one day, the next feel like a man, it _all depends on the person_.” He looked at Steve, hand gentle on his arm. “And none of it’s _wrong_. There’s no _correct way_ to be a human. And they each are up to interpretation. There are people who identify as agender but _choose_ to present a certain way, there are people who identify as male but _choose_ to present androgynous, there’s no _one way_ to do it.”

“So if I, if I feel good like _this_ ,” Steve gestured to the dress, the smeared makeup. “I can still be, a _guy_ , like I can just be a guy that likes to _look like_ a girl.”

“If that feels _best_ to you. Like I said, you don’t _have to_ be a guy, just because that’s what you were assigned at birth.”

“What do you mean? ‘Assigned at birth’?”

“That means the gender that’s on your birth certificate. It’s just a better way of saying like, _male-bodied_ , since that can be, kinda shitty for people _._ And like, what even _is_ a male body, you know?”

“You’re getting a little introspective for me here, Bill.”

“Basically, just because you were born with a dick and a doctor was like, _it’s a boy_ , doesn’t mean you have to be a boy that _likes looking like a girl_ , or whatever you said. That’s a _perfectly valid way to b_ e, a femme presenting guy, don’t get me wrong, but earlier you said you _didn’t_ feel _right_ as a boy, and I just don’t want you to back yourself into a corner.” Steve blinked.

“Yeah, I think, I think you’re right. I don’t, I’m _not_ a guy. I don’t think.”

“You _do not_ have to know right now. You literally _just_ learned about this, you don’t have to like _immediately_ make a choice. Take some time. Try different labels, try different pronouns, try _no_ labels, see what feels _best_.” He smiled, looking at Steve softly. “If you want to, I can, like, _help you_. If you, if you think of something you want to try, it may be nice to, like, hear it from someone else.”

“What was, what was the one that was like, sometimes people identify as like, _another_ gender?” Billy typed away, pulling up a new article.

“I _think_ you mean non-binary. It’s more of an _umbrella term_ to some people, they find more leeway in it.” He scrolled down, pointing at a list of pronouns. “So, some people who identify as non-binary also use alternative pronouns, things like they or ze, which is a way for them to be referred to outside of the gender binary.” Steve’s mind was _racing_. He tested the words on his tongue, thinking _ze, sie, hir_ to himself, to, _themself?_

“But if I identify, as, as _non-binary_ , or something, can I still, like, _dress_ like this?”

“Of course. Identity and expression are two different things. To some, they go hand-in-hand, but to others, they can be _totally_ separate.”

“I think, as of _right now_ I think non-binary is okay.” Billy beamed.

“Okay! You don’t have to _decide_ right now, and some folks _never_ decide, they spend their lives flowing through different ways to identify and express themselves, and _again_ , that’s totally fuckin’ _okay_. Nothing has to magically click into place for you. You can experiment.”

“Can I, can _we_ experiment with, with _they_. I kinda, it kinda makes _sense_.” Billy just kept grinning, his smile huge and beautiful.

“ _Yes_ , I can do that.” But his face fell, “But I, I mean, this is fuckin’ _Hawkins_ , and I don't’ know, I mean, is it, like _safe_?” Steve felt like their heart was breaking.

“No, it’s, I don’t _think_ it is, I mean, there haven’t been like _incidents_ but also, we don’t have a lot of people that are, like, openly _different_.” Billy’s brow was drawn.

“I can, I can call you whatever you want just the two of us, but, I don’t want to like, _out_ you-”

“You can, you can say _he_ was it’s, when it’s other people. I don’t, I don’t want this to get back to my dad, or anything.” Billy’s eyes were _sharp_.

“I can do that, I can protect you, like that.” He was nodding vigorously. “I just, I wanted to be on the same _page_ , didn’t want to be like _misgendering_ you behind your back and make you feel like _shit_.”

“You have my express permission to, uh, _misgender_ me, or whatever you just said.” Steve sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I just gotta get outta this fuckin’ _town_ , man. Then I’ll be _good_. Live my little queer life outside of the shitty bar outside of town.” Billy laughed.

“You _go_ there?”

“I used to, when I was first kinda, questioning myself. Used to let guys fuck me and call me, like, their _pretty little slut_ or whatever. Not my finest moments.”

“ _Christ_ , Stevie. That’s some _deep shit_. I went _once_ when I first got into town, and some guy was like, _I wanna hear you screaming ‘Daddy’ for me_ and I was like, nope. No thank you to That.” Steve laughed with him.

“I’m pretty sure I _did_ let that guy fuck me. Bily groaned.

“Stevie, _no_. Don’t call random men _Daddy_.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Bill, I got a _lot_ of daddy issues.”

“Yeah, me too, but not _that_ many.”

“Just enough to be _called_ Daddy, then?” Billy went _red_ , dropped his eyes from Steve as they cackled. “Hit the nail on the _fuckin’_ head then, didn’t I?”

“Whatever, you little asshole. Let’s just fuckin’ get on with your English homework that _is_ why I’m here after all. Go grab your books.” Steve grinned, leaning in close to Billy.

“Okay, _Daddy_ ,” they _purred_ , racing off up the stairs laughing loudly, hearing Billy cursing them out from the kitchen.


	6. Request: Spectrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HfBLM request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Steve gets misgendered accidentally
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

“I think I’m a girl.”

This revelation wasn’t totally _shocking_ to Billy.

Steve _loved_ pretty things. Could be found more often than not jamming around in a little skirt, _lots_ of makeup. So Billy just said

“Okay, Baby. Then I love my _gorgeous_ girlfriend.”

And that was so _sweet_ and all, but to Steve it still didn’t, it felt _just_ as bad as _boyfriend_.

“Actually, maybe not.”

“I think maybe there’s something _wrong_ with me.”

They were in Steve’s bed together, Steve laying practically on top of Billy.

“What makes you say that?”

“Parts of me feel like I’m a girl, and parts of me feel like I’m a boy. But all of me _hates_ both of those options. I mean, I _love_ looking like a girl, but when you, when you said _girlfriend_ , Bill that felt _just_ as fucking bad as _boyfriend_. I think I’m _broken_.” Billy shifted around until Steve was looking _right_ at him.

“You are _not_ broken. You are _beautiful_ and _amazing_ and _confused_. But you are _far_ from broken. There’s _more_ in the world than girl and boy. You can be anything, any _one_.

“Back in California, I knew all _kinds_ of people. I had friends all along the trans umbrella. I had a friend who was a trans guy, but preferred presenting for feminine. I had androgynous friends that presented however they pleased. I had friends who identified as no gender, or _all_ the genders. I had a friend whose gender identity would change on any given day. Gender is fucking _fake_ , and if you’re not comfortable with whatever you were assigned at birth, make something new for yourself.”

“I think that I’m somewhere in between. Not a woman, but not a man.” Billy grabbed the notbad next to Steve’s bad, drew a horizontal line across it.

“So basically, think of gender as a spectrum. Over here you’ve got women. This includes trans women, who are women that were assigned male at birth. One the other side you’ve got men, which includes trans men. In the middle, you’ve got nonbinay folks. Nonbinary is an umbrella term that just means these people live outside of man and woman. This includes agender people, who _have_ no gender, and people who identify as more than one gender, like bigender or pangender. All along the scale you have people who are genderfluid and genderflux, whose definition of their own gender may slide along the scale at any given moment. You also have people that identify as demiboy, or reversely, demigirl, people that only identify _partially_ as boy or girl, respectively. There’s also the idea of being transmasc, or transfem which are people who were assinged a gender at birth, but identitfy _more_ with the other, without _completely_ identify themselves as trans. So a person assigned male at birth who doesn’t consider themselves a transwoman, but more comfortably identities with feminity as a _concept_.”

He held out the drawing to Steve.

“There’s also different pronouns, and this isn’t even _touching_ the intersex scale. Gender is _so_ fucking whack, Sweet Thing.

“There’s a _lot_ of different ways to play with it, and each person is so _different_. You can identify one way and present in a way that isn’t stereotypical to how you identify. And _no one_ can tell you you’re _wrong_. Because you’re _not_.”

Steve was studying the drawing with wide eyes.

“Pronouns?”

“Like how I was assigned male at birth, and identify as male, so I use he/him pronouns. People along this scale can use _whatever_ pronouns feel best. Some people use they and them so that they aren’t being gendered, and there are other gender neutral pronouns, like ze/zir and ve/ver.”

“But I mean, they is like, it’s plural.”

“Nah. They has _always_ been used as a gender neutral pronoun. Plus, if it feels _best_ , it can mean whatever the fuck you want it to.”

“So I could, I could like, be a them.”

“If that feels good.”

“Use it for me. Let me see.”

“Okay, um, I was laying in bed with my significant other, Steve and they were asking me questions about gender identity and expression. Afterwards I made them a cup of tea and cuddled them all night.” Steve’s eyes opened back up.

“Bill, that’s, _fuck_ , that’s it.”

“They?”

“They. That felt, it felt _good_. I didn’t, I don’t even _know_.” Billy squished them tighter to himself.

“I’m glad, Baby.”

“So, does that make me nonbinary?” Billy just looked at them.

“Does it? You tell me, Sweet Thing.”

“I think so. Nonbinary. So like, maybe transfem? But I think I would be more agender”

“If that’s what’s true. You can call yourself nonbinary and leave it at that, or you can take as _many_ labels as you feel fit. It’s _your_ identity. Fuck with it as you see fit.”

Steve was worrying their lip.

“And you don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I’m not, not a guy.” Billy pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“‘Course I don’t mind. You’re still _you_. Your gender doesn’t matter to me at _all_. As long as you’re _happy_ and _comfortable_ and _safe_. _That’s_ what matters to me.”

Steve _needed_ to tell the party.

They spent so much _time_ with the gaggle of kids, and kept getting fucking _misgendered_. Not that it was their _fault_ , they didn’t _know_ Steve was using different pronouns now.

“Look, I _know_ those little Gen-Z’ers aren’t gonna _care_. I mean they see me in makeup and dresses and shit _all the time_ , but this feels, _big_.” Billy was driving them over to the Byers’ place where all the kids were waiting. “But, but what if they _take it wrong_. What if they just think I’m this confused _girl_ or something. Or they say I need to make up my _mind_.” Billy reached over to grab their hand.

“If they do, I’ll punch ‘em out. One by one. Fuck them kids.”

But they all took it so fucking _well_ , it was _actually_ anticlimactic.

“I mean, it’s pretty _obvious_ you don’t conform to a gender binary.” Dustin hadn’t even _looked up_ from their campaign as Steve fucking _came out_. “But like, thanks for telling us. And trusting us. You’re pretty brave I guess.”

Steve rolled their eyes.

“Thanks. You’re all so sweet and sensitive. I was _shitting myself_ on the way over, and _none_ of you are even _fazed_.”

“Yeah, I saw this coming.” Lucas rolled one of his dice.

“Do you want to do it again? We’ll all pretend to think you’re disgusting and call you a freak or something. Would _that_ be better?” Mike had a challenging look on his face. Steve just slumped into the couch.

“No. Whatever. It’s fine.” They were actually _pouting_.

“What, you wanted like, a Lifetime movie moment? Where we all cry and say that we love you regardless and pretend we literally _all_ didn’t see this coming?” Mike rolled his eyes.

“I mean, a _little_ pomp and circumstance would be _nice_. Accepting myself and coming out to you all _was_ a bunch of breakdowns in the making.” Dustin threw himself dramatically onto Steve’s lap.

“Oh! Oh, Steven! My sweet dear loved one! This is shocking news! But my love for you will never crumble! If anything, it is _fortified_!” Steve just laughed and shoved Dustin off their lap.

“Brat.”

“Can I just get a cheeseburger and fries?” The peppy waitress was twirling her ponytail, batting her eyes at Billy like Steve wasn’t _right_ fucking there.

“Of _course_. Anything _else_ for you?” She bat her eyes. Billy just blinked at her, completely dead-eyed. He gestured to Steve.

“Sorry, Girl. Didn’t see you!” She tried to laugh it off. Steve’s blood went cold.

“I’ll get the same please.” Her eyes widened at the sound of Steve’s voice, still _deep_ , still _masculine_ , despite the light blue dress, the pretty makeup.

“Oh, _sorry_. I’ll get that _right_ out for you boys.” She shot away, embarrassed. Steve let their head fall onto the table.

Billy ran his fingers through their hair.

“Two for the price of one misgenderings.” They muttered into the table. Billy was gently scraping his nails into their scalp. “That was like getting kicked while down _Jesus_.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I’m sorry I can’t totally understand how shitty it makes you feel.” They sat in silence for a moment until Billy tugged on their hair as the waitress approached with their food. She set it down cautiously.

“Could we get some ketchup, please. And _they’re_ gonna want mustard.” Steve smiled weakly at him, the way he _overemphasized_ using _they_.

“Um, of course. Anything else?”

“Could you grab _them_ another water?” It was _just_ less than half-full, but Billy couldn’t be stopped.

The waitress just blushed, filling Steve’s water and placing ketchup and mustard on their table with a little _enjoy_.

“Bill, she didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but she still did. And I wanted you to stop feeling invalidated.” Billy shoved the burger in his mouth.

Steve just smiled at him, told him he ate like a pig.


	7. Anon: Famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> billy’s this very known lead singer and guitarist in the band he’s in and he has one of his concerts where he meets steve. steve who’s the prettiest boy he has ever seen, big brown eyes, beautiful smile. he’d totally lose if and would go talk to him after the gig all sweaty and shit and even steve finds it hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy was sweating.

He had just played a _ridiculous_ show, played an hour slot on the Coachella _main stage_.

“Holy _shit_ , man. What a fucking _riot_!” Tommy slapped him on the shoulder, sweating as much as Billy, clutching cracked drumsticks. Billy grinned.

The show had been _amazing_.

The Mind Flayer had _skyrocketed_ quickly, releasing a single that went gold in just about a _month_. It was a whirlwind, getting signed, playing festivals, releasing an album, kicking off a supporting tour at _Coachella_.

Billy didn’t know how he went from practicing guitar in his fucking _car_ so that his _dad_ wouldn’t get mad, to being featured on the goddamn cover of _Rolling Stone_.

They were ushered through the backstage area, taken to the VIP bar behind the stage.

They were being rowdy, talking loudly and laughing, getting a few rounds of shots for their table.

Billy was laughing at something Patrick, the lanky bass player was saying when his eyes _shot_ to the opening of the tent.

Billy had never seen someone so _beautiful_.

They were all leg, pale and _long_ in shorty little shorts. They were wearing a cream-colored silk shirt, only one button done, tucked into the shorts, a lacy bralette underneath, glitter brushed across their delicate collarbones. Their eyes were so _big_ , a gooey brown color, only accentuated with smokey eye shadow, rich shades of blue underneath thick false lashes.

They walked up to the bar, laughing and talking with a pretty blonde on their left. Billy was on his feet in an instant, sitting next to them at the bar, putting in an order for an old fashioned.

“I know you.” Billy turned to smirk at them. “You’re in that band that’s really popular right now. Mind Flamer.”

“It’s uh, Mind _Flayer_ , actually. It’s a Dungeons and Dragons character.” They quirked a sculpted eyebrow up. “Billy Hargrove.”

“Steve Harrington.” They shook hands, Steve’s was soft in his.

“Where do I know _you_ from?” They looked down at their scuffed boots.

“I’ve done some modeling.” The blonde on the other side of them scoffed, muttering _some_ under her breath.

“Wait! I’ve seen you on a fucking _billboard_!” Billy gaped at them as they blushed. “Yeah, you did something for like, Dior recently.”

“ _And_ Louis Vuitton, _and_ Jean Paul Gaultier, _and_ -”

“Literally, Robin, stop talking.” Robin just held up her hands, sipping at the cocktail the bartender placed in front of her. “And that’s Robin, she _used_ to be my friend.” She rolled her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” She grinned at Billy over the bartop, leaning in front of Steve.

“Dingus was pretending not to know your band’s name, we _literally_ just watched your set and they would _not_ stop talking about how _hot_ you are.” Steve’s face was on _fire_ as they pushed Robin away, making Billy _howl_ with laughter.

“I will _end you_ ,” they hissed at her. She just blew them a kiss, taking a seat at one of the high tops near the canvas wall. “ _Yes_ , I lied but like, what was I _supposed_ to say? Hi, my name is Steve and your song _[Gentleman](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D7xc5Y-tcMXA&t=Zjg0YTkyMWU5YzQxZWZhNjAwN2E1YTk2ZTQ2MjM5MzIyYTAxZmI2Yiw3NzA3MzZlNjJlMjY2OWFiYWZhM2M1OTUzY2M1YmI1YTlkZmZlYWY5)_ is my go-to fuck jam and think you’re at your absolute _hottest_ when you’re sweaty.”

Billy was losing his damn _mind._ He was doubled over laughing.

“I would’ve _loved that_. That woulda made me fucking _day_ , honestly.” Steve just glared.

“ _So_ glad my mental anguish is causing you _joy_.” They went to turn around, Billy catching them around their thin wrist.

“C’mon Sweet Thing. That song was _literally_ _made_ to be a fuck jam.” They huffed. “So, _sweaty_?” He made sure to put on his most _you’re welcome to sit on my face_ smile as he leaned closer into Steve’s space.

Steve flushed an even _deeper_ shade of red, the color spreading down their chest.

“You’re just, a very _energetic_ performer.” Billy laughed again, licking over his bottom lip.


	8. Anon: Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> i’m dying to read some harringrove college stuff, so what about the boys being in some frat party, meeting each other for the first time. Billy would be doing some drinking game or something and Steve would be watching him. even tho Steve’s ”dating” this guy (fuckbuddies) who’s arms are around Steve, he still takes an interest on Billy. Billy would also see Steve, all pretty and long legs and would love to get piece of him after getting that guy off him. then they fuck somewhere in the house 👀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy shouldered his way into the party.

He was trying to find the kitchen, looking for a drink. He ended up just grabbing the drink out of some douchebag’s hand as he walked behind him.

He met up with his roommate, one of the other pledges from the frat he was rushing, Scott.

“Billy, you mother _fucker_! Play beerpong!” Scott pulled him to the table, shoving a pingpong ball into his hand. Billy looked up, his brain shorting out as he saw the other team.

Across from his was a huge douchey-looking guy, in a muscle tank with the sleeves ripped off, and a _backwards hat_. Billy _knows_ he dresses like a fuckboy on a _good_ day, but at least he’s not like _this_ asshole.

But what this asshole _had_ , was the _most_ beautiful person Billy had _ever_ seen in his entire fucking _life_. All long legs, and big eyes. They were wearing a pretty bodysuit, a dark purple color with a deep neckline, lace trimming the spaghetti straps, the neckline, the low back. They had a little pin on their little denim shorts that read _They/Them_.

Billy watched the jock asshole, tuck them under his arm, whispering something to them, making their eyes crinkle so _sweetly_ while they giggled, batting their big fake eyelashes at him.

Billy played the game making eyes at the pretty little thing on the other side of the table.

But the thing was, they were _good_. They sunk almost _every_ throw, giving Billy a smug little look each time. It only made Billy fall _harder_. But then the game was over and the shitty jock tucked the perfect darling under his arm and disappeared into the party.

“Who _was that_?” He was standing with Scott in the kitchen, finally found it to make themselves some drinks, taking a few shots each.

“The asshole in the trucker hat? That’s Chad Weathers.”

“No not-wait, his name is fucking _Chad_? There are actually humans named _Chad_ that exist on this Earth?”

“I fucking _know_. Can you _believe_? Imagine just being like, _hi, my name is Chad_.”

“Is he a douche because his name is Chad, or is his name Chad because he was always predisposed to be a douche?”

“Definitely the second. You can’t damp pure _asshole_ like that.” Billy turned, seeing the _perfect_ beerpong sweetheart from earlier, pouring some vodka and raspberry lemonade into a solo cup.

Billy laughed, holding out his hand.

“Billy.”

“Steve.” They shook hands. Their hand was warm and soft, fingers slender and long.

“You really called your boyfriend a douchebag just now, huh?” Steve gave him a look.

“ _Not_ my boyfriend. We just fuck sometimes. Usually when _he’s_ drunk enough to not be weird about my dick, and when _I’m_ drunk enough to talk about my dick to _strangers_.”

Billy just leaned against the counter, making sure to put on his _I WILL eat your ass and you’ll THANK me for it_ smile.

“Well, I know all about your dick now, so we’re not strangers _anymore_.” Steve just laughed, touching Billy’s upper arm gently. They moved just a _hair_ closer to Billy. He was _totally_ in.

“So, Billy, tell me about yourself. What are you studying?”

“Guess.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Um, you’re a big dudebro so like, business management. Something to get you through while you play football on scholarship and party with your frat.” Billy sucked in some air through his teeth.

“Hate to break it to you, but you were only right about _one_ thing. I’m rushing a frat, but I don’t play football, and I’m _not_ studying fucking _business_. I’m studying social work. And I’m here on _academic_ scholarship.” Steve was grinning.

“So you’re like, a _sensitive_ dudebro. Good for you.”

“What are _you_ studying, then? Art?” Steve rolled their eyes.

“Just because I’m all _queer_ doesn’t mean I’m studying _art_. Why didn’t you guess _theater_.”

“Well, as a _fellow_ queer I just meant you seem like an artistic soul.”

“I mean, I _am_ really _great_ at crafts.” Billy laughed. “But I’m studying education and early childhood development. I wanna teach little kids.” They had this _soft_ look on their face.

“ _God_ , you’re _just_ as sweet as I thought you’d be.” Steve raised an eyebrow again, a smile tugging at their lips, painted the same deep purple as their bodysuit.

“You think about me often?”

“Well, you’re just about the _only_ thing I’ve thought of this whole conversation.” And then their hand was trailing down Billy’s arm, tugging him in closer by the wrist, they leaned into Billy’s space, _just_ close enough to be heard.

“You wanna find a room? Think of me some more?” Billy slid his arm around their lower back.

“Lead the way, sweet thing.”

Billy started openly at their ass as they led him up the stairs, hips swaying. The first room they checked was locked, the second unlocked but _occupied_. But, third time’s the damn charm apparently.

Billy pushed Steve inside, locking the door behind him.

It was some frat bro’s room, shitty basic posters on the wall, a _lot_ of beer cans lined up on the window sill like it was _decor_.

But Billy wasn’t too focused on their surroundings, not when Steve was getting _naked_ , right then and there in the middle of the room. They tossed a condom from their pocket at Billy as they stepped out of the shorts, sliding the bodysuit off after. Billy groaned.

“ _Fuck_. You’re so fucking _sexy_.” He placed his hands on their hips, sliding them back to grope at their ass, pulling them forward into him. “ _Gorgeous_.” He figured the deep lipstick was smeared everywhere between by now, but honestly, he _really_ couldn’t find it within himself to care as Steve pawed at his shirt, clumsily undoing the few that were still done, pushing it off his shoulders.

Some base heavy song was playing as Billy kicked out of jeans, pressed against Steve until they were at the edge of the bed, turning them around and bending them over. He pressed sloppy kisses down their spine.

“Can I eat you out?” He heard them groan, hips canting back just a little.

“ _Fuck_ yeah.” Billy grinned, spreading them slightly, getting a look at their tight little hole before diving in, licking and sucking with _wild_ abandon. He could _barely_ hear their soft noises over the music of the party, the wet sounds of his own _mouth_.

He pulled back, spitting one last time before pressing one finger inside, watching as he fucked it in and out.

“There’s, there’s some lube in my pocket.” Steve had turned their head, was looking over their shoulder at Billy, gesturing wildly to the shorts on the floor. Billy leaned back on his knees, kept his one finger pumping in and out of Steve while he got the shorts, finding a _few_ packets of lube and condoms.

“You really came prepared tonight. You go to _every_ party with all this one you?”

“Well it’s _mostly_ just in case.” Billy laughed, muttering _MOSTLY_ _just in case_ under his breath, tearing open the lube with his teeth, pouring some over his fingers and Steve’s hole. He pressed two fingers inside, curling and stretching them _expertly_.

Steve was whining, fucking back onto three of Billy’s fingers. He still had one hand keeping them spread open, watching his fingers.

“I’m fucking, I’m _ready_. Just _fuck me_.” Billy pulled his fingers out, slapping their ass once.

“ _Brat_.” He rolled on the condom, giving himself a few strokes as he did. He lined up, pressing into that tight little spot. He threw his head back, groaning as his hips pressed flush to Steve’s ass, grinding deeply. Steve was face down into the mattress, taking shaky little breaths. Billy dragged a hand up their spine, settling it on the shoulder, the other on their soft hip, using them as leverage to just _fuck_.

He was slamming into Steve, fucking them with a _punishing_ pace, their skin slapping together. Billy bent over Steve, pushing one arm under their hips, angling them _perfectly_ to slam against that sensitive little _spot_.

“Oh my _God_. Whatever the _fuck_ you’re doing right now, don’t fucking _stop_.” Billy just huffed a laugh, going even _harder_ , slamming their bodies together. Steve wormed a hand beneath them, stripping their cock quickly, bucking their hips forward and back.

Billy groaned when they came, tightening around him lie a fucking _vice_ , crying out.

He kept going for a moment or two, grinding in deep to finish. He pulled out, slumping on the bed next to Steve, flopped in his back. They looked over at him, smiling lazily.

“I’m gonna have to get your number. That was _good_.” Billy laughed, batting awkwardly at their shoulder.

“Not so bad yourself.” They stood up slolwy, wincing slightly as they got re-dressed, Billy following suit.

“Seriously, I’m gonna be like, actually _sore_. Haven’t felt like _that_ in a minute.” They were looking the mirror on the inside of the closet door, had just _pulled_ it open like they _owned_ the place to fix their mussed hair. Their makeup was _somehow_ perfectly intact.

They flung their phone over to Billy.

“Put your number in.” They didn’t have a passcode on their phone which was _bold_ , gave them a kinda _Fuck with me. I DARE you. I have NOTHING to hide_ vibe. Billy liked it.

He put his number in under Billy Delta Phi party, so that Steve _knew_ , would see the number and remember the _night_ , the way Billy fucked them so hard they _hurt_.

“Just shoot me a text sometime. I’ll kick my idiot roommate out.”

“No need, I have a single room. The university was gonna put me with some _guy_ , but my loving mommy and daddy don’t trust me _not_ to be a slut.” Billy raised an eyebrow, cocking his head a little.

“You have a _single room_ and we’re not there _right now_?” Steve just smirked, a challenge in their eyes.

“You askin’ for another round?”

“Long as you’re not too sore.” Steve took his wrist, dragging him out of the party and down the road back towards campus.


	9. Anon: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> I really liked your housewife Steve. I thought it was both sweet and sexy. Would you be willing to expand on that with a genderfluid Steve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part 2 to[this piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473963/chapters/56831185)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Ever since that first time Billy came home to find Steve in a dress, it had been happening more and more. Billy would come home from a shift, find Steve in makeup, a new pretty dress, usually soft lingerie underneath.

The first conversation had _not_ gone well.

“I don’t _care_ if you’re a girl, I just wanna _know_!”

“I’m _not_ a girl!”

It had ended with Billy going on a drive and Steve in _tears_.

The next conversation was _exponentially_ better.

“I think, _sometimes_ , I _could_ be a girl. But _sometimes_ that feels, feels _awful_.”

“Just tell me what’s _good_ , Baby. I love _you_.”

“I don’t _know_. Sometimes, sometimes I don’t know if I feel like I’m _anything_ , like I’m just a _person_.”

So Billy did what he’s _best_ at.

He charmed the librarian.

He took a day, drove to the city, _scoured_ the public library, asked around for books on human sexuality, on _gender studies_. He got a _lot_ of weird looks, but he also got some _books_.

He found something called the Benjamin Scale, learned gender was a _spectrum_.

He brought everything back to Steve, explained that, everyone fits along the spectrum, that _apparently_ , Steve dances along the scale on any given day.

They began having a _lot_ of conversations.

Sometimes, Steve would get _insecure_.

“But you _only_ like _guys_. Do you not _like_ me when I’m _not_ a guy?”

“I love _you_. Always, and in all _ways_.”

“But, if you _do_ like me, am I just a _guy_? Am I just, _fucked up_?”

“You are _not_ fucked up. I fell in love with your personality, with how _sweet_ you are, how _kind_. I fell in love with your softness and your rough edges and your protective streak and your brattiness and _everything_ about _who_ you are.”

And sometimes, Steve would be _confused_.

“Because today I’m a whole _woman_ , a damn _lady_ if you will, but I don’t _actually_ wanna like, put on a dress.”

or

“I’m feeling a bit _dudeish_ , but like, I would _love_ having some tits right about now.”

or

“I _was_ feeling kinda like _nothing_ , but after you fucked me I’m leaning more chick.”

And sometimes it was _hard_.

Steve was almost _always_ more comfortable in soft dresses, pretty frilly things. But it was _Hawkins_ , it was _1985_ , people weren’t exactly _accepting_. So Steve would have to go out in clothes that felt _bad_ , would get called a _guy_ all day, would come home to Billy, curl up in something pretty and soft and _cry_ , would sob into Billy’s chest and say _I’m NOT a guy, not today_.

And sometimes, Billy fucked up.

Wouldn’t think before a _Pretty Boy_ , and send Steve spiraling. Had to _think_ every time he referred to Steve as his _partner_ , not his _boyfriend_.

Would come home to Steve in a dress, would say _you look so gorgeous, all dressed up for me_ and Steve would huff and shoot back _it’s not for YOU_.

Would touch Steve’s cock on day they’d rather _forget_ it was there.

It was a long process, and it took a lot of tears, a few fights, and running off to California before it was all worked out.

A year after Billy came home to Steve in a dress, he could _finally_ walk hand in hand with Steve down the street.

They had moved to San Fransisco, wanted someplace _queer_ , where Steve could walk into a second-hand shop, buy eight new dresses, and nobody would bat an eye.

Where Billy could talk about his _partner_ , that _they_ _said the silliest thing last night_ and his friends would laugh along with the anecdote, wouldn’t scoff at the words.

Where Steve could get a job, work in a daycare center where little kids always said how much they _loved_ today’s sparkly blue nail polish, that their dress was so _pretty_. Wouldn’t have to _hide_.


	10. Anon: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Could I get more housewife Steve but kind of in reverse? Maybe Steve has a bad day so Billy draws him a bath and lays out pretty clothes for him to wear? He might even go get something for dinner or take him out some where no one will recognize them for a date? I hope things are getting better for you. I wish you all the happiness you can stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part 3 to[this piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473963/chapters/56831185) (part 2 is previous chapter)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

“I have a surprise for you.”

Steve had just come in the front door, was feeling _tense_ from a shitty day, a shift at Scoops. That morning, they had woken up feeling so _wrong_ in their body, had to put on the scoops uniform, the one that sometimes made them feel that much _worse_.

Billy had the day off, wanted to do something _nice_ for Steve.

So he picked out a nice outfit for them, laid out the _works_ on their bed, a pretty dress, picked _gorgeous_ lingerie, even picked out shoes to match. He had drawn a bath in Steve’s parents bathroom, the tub was _giant_ , had fucking _jacuzzi_ jets. He had put in lots of sweet-smelling bath salts.

He took Steve’s hand, led them to the bathroom.

It was dimly lit, steamy and smelled so _good_ , like the soft florals Steve _loved_ to smell like. Billy undressed them both, sliding into the water behind Steve.

He held them _close_ , pressing soft kisses into their skin. He rubbed their shoulders, easing the tension from them.

“I thought we could do something _fun_ tonight.” He was speaking quietly into Steve’s ear. “I thought we could go on a _date_.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. That sounds nice, but I just, I _can’t_ go out tonight. I need to, need to feel like _myself_.”

“Well, that was my idea. We could, we could go outta town, to the city, or even _further_ if you wanted. Somewhere nobody would recognize us, and we can go on a date. A _proper_ one.” Steve shifted to look at Billy.

“That, that would be really _fun_ , Bill.” Billy licked their cheek. They laughed, slapping his chest.

“I laid out some clothes for you. Thought we could get all dressed up.” They scrambled outta the tub, yanking one of the soft towels of the hook, leaving wet footprints all the way to their bedroom.

Billy came in _just_ as they were adjusting the lingerie, hooking the cream satin bra behind their back. Billy came up behind them, running his fingers over their soft hips, the matching panties and garter belt, the nude stockings.

“You’re _so_ beautiful.” They threaded a hand into his hair. “I _love_ getting to look at you like this.” They pressed a kiss to Billy’s jaw, pushing at him lightly.

“I gotta get _ready_ , Bill.” He hummed, pulling them back into his arms.

“ _Or_ , we could stay _here_. And you can show me _all_ your pretty things.” They used their hips to shove Billy off, moving to their vanity, sitting down and beginning their routine, picking colors to blend together.

Billy sat on their bed, watching as they methodically put on their makeup, contouring their cheekbones, blending pretty golds and shimmery brown eye shadows.

They worked quickly, keeping their eyeliner _sharp_ , adding _tasteful_ false lashes.

They bat them at Billy, looking demurely over their shoulder. 

When they were all dressed and ready, Billy led them to his car with one hand on the small of their back.

They drove out to Indianapolis, holding hands as they walked down the street, found a small Italian place where Steve’s eyes fluttered shut when they tasted everything, said it was _just_ like food their Nonna made.

Their waiter even _winked_ at Steve, made them _blush_.

They walked back to Billy’s car, Steve tucked under his arm.

“Thank you, Bill. This was so _nice_. _Just_ what I needed.”

“We could _do_ this. Like, every Friday or something. Go on a nice date somewhere you can be yourself.” Steve blinked up at him.

“I would really love that.” They leaned over to kiss Billy, _right_ there on the street. Nobody blinked twice at them, just saw a happy couple being in love.


	11. Anon: Stripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Is it bad that Woman by Harry Styles gives me BIG nb Steve vibes...? Because it has been KILLING me lately 😅 could you write a little harringrove something with it? I would love you forever lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy didn’t mind Steve’s line of work. 

They were dancing _long_ before they met Billy, and they _loved_ the club, felt so _powerful_ and _beautiful_ when they were stripping. 

Plus, it was _good_ money.

They would come home with _piles_ of tip money, and be so _giddy_ they’d give Billy a free lap dance before bed. 

And Billy _loved_ coming to Steve’s club, would get a table _right_ near the stage, empty a few thousand dollars out of their joint bank account _just_ so he could have something to toss at Steve. 

They would smirk at Billy, working the pole while giving him sultry looks, then drop to the floor of the stage, crawling over to Billy, and making a real _show_ of shaking their ass in his face, letting him shove dollar bills that will just go _right back_ into their joint account the next bank day. 

Billy had posted up at his preferred table, ordered a few drinks from the scantily clad waiter. 

He was staring at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram while he waited for Steve. 

The lights dimmed, making Billy perk up. 

“Alright, everyone! Give a _warm welcome_ to Bambi!” 

And there was Steve, in platform Pleaser heels and lingerie.

The song began, Steve had a rotation of several they liked. 

Billy had seen _them all_. But he _loved_ this one. 

_I'm selfish, I know. But I don't ever want to see you with him._

They started rolling their body to the slow beat, making dark eyes at Billy, his stack of crisp bills. 

_I'm selfish, I know. I told you, but I know you never listen._

Billy sipped his drink as Steve began walking forward, grinding against the pole, lifting themself up on it to do a few artful spins. 

_I hope you can see the shape that I'm in. While he's touching your skin._

They slid down the pole, landing in a split, tossing their head back. 

_He's right where I should, where I should be. But you're making me bleed._

Billy raised a few bills, made Steve grin. 

They crawled over to him as the chorus began. They smiled coyly at him, coming up on their knees, pushing their hips forward, let Billy tuck a few dollar bills into the waistband of their panties. 

They sank back down. 

“Hi, Baby.”

“Havin’ a good night, Sugar?” Steve licked their lips slowly, _seductively_.

“Better now that you’re here.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout a private dance then?”

“Well, you can pay fifty bucks for one after this, _or_ , you can wait till I get home and I’ll give you an _extra_ special dance.” They had leaned back down on their knees, putting their ass up in the air, circling their hips, keeping the other patrons intrigued.

“Maybe I’ll _wait_ , then. Get one ‘a those _special_ dances.” Steve grinned, lounging out onto their back, opening their long legs in a middle split. 

Billy tucked a dollar bill into the top of their boot, just to make them laugh. 

They crawled away, dancing for a few of the other patrons, accepting dollar bills with a gracious smile. 

They stood back up, rolling their body some more, feeling over their body. 

_Tempted, you know. Apologies are never gonna fix this._

Sometimes the people Billy worked with at the garage, asked him how he was _okay_ with Steve being a stripper. 

He’d always say that _first_ of all, watching Steve dance was sexy as hell. _Second_ of all, what Steve _chose_ to do with their life, their career, was none of Billy’s business.

But he wasn’t always that way. 

He used to get _jealous_ , watching other guys look at Steve _like that_ , like they _want them_. He would be filled with white hot rage when he thought about Steve giving private dances, grinding on strange guys’ laps. 

And in the early days, he and Steve had _fought_ about it, had yelled at one another and Billy had said _it feels like you’re cheating on me! How do I know you’re not fucking these guys!_ and Steve had said _I’m not quitting a job that I love for anyone! Learn to trust me, or get the fuck out of my life!_ and so Billy had pulled his head out of his ass. 

_I'm empty, I know. Promises are broken like the stitches._

He knew it was an act, the way Steve would flutter their eyes all sexy at the men in the club, knew it was _real_ by the way they would laugh and cry and smile and be weird _and_ flutter their eyes all sexy at Billy. 

Billy got the full range of Steve, and these assholes at the club only got Steve bleeding their tip money. 

_I hope you can see the shape I've been in. While he's touching your skin.  
_

Billy watched some patron trail a wad of cash down Steve’s body, shoving them into his panties. 

He thought about what he was gonna buy Steve with the money pressed against their dick, the money that come Monday morning would be in the account they both had cards for. 

Maybe he’d get them a nice ring. 

Maybe he’d get them a promise with that ring. 

_This thing upon me, howls like a beast. You flower, you feast._


	12. Anon: Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Nb model Steve? Maybe Billy is a photographer who's known for his artsy and alternative photos and Steve is an up and coming model who has to deal with a lot of misgendering in the industry? But Billy is one of the first photographers who really respects their pronouns and what he's comfortable wearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Steve didn’t know what to expect when they got on location. 

They _loved_ being a model, felt so _comfortable_ in front of a camera, had even gotten to do some _runway_ work for New York Fashion Week this year. 

But the _issue_ , is that they _only_ get work as a _male model_ , where they’re expected to be hyper masculine and all _macho_. 

It’s the fucking _worst_.

But his agent had gotten them this shoot, _promised_ that it wouldn’t be like the last one, or the one before that, or the one _before that_.

They took a deep breath before entering the building.

“Hi, Steve Harrington, checking in.” The woman smiled at him, taping into her phone. 

“Great, let’s take you through to hair and makeup. Mr. Hargrove will want to speak with you before you begin.” She led Steve through to the warehouse. 

Steve had never worked with Billy Hargrove before, but his name preceded him. He was known for _beautiful_ shoots with models _way_ beyond Steve’s recognition and caliber. Shooting campaigns for high end designers.

“So, I was never informed what campaign this is for.”

“This is for Mr. Hargrove’s personal portfolio. He chooses to freelance various projects he believes in.”

“Wait so, this is like, _just_ for him?” She pulled Steve aside.

“He’s putting together an art book, but do _not_ tell anyone you heard that. He’s going to announce it in a few months. Limited run, all that. You’ll be getting a share. He feels paying models is _extremely_ important.” Steve just nodded, they’re eyes big.

“Sorry, how did _I_ end up on this project?”

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove is a fan of your work. Asked for you by name.”

Steve was in hair and make up now, being ushered into a tall chair. The woman, probably Mr. Hargrove’s assistant, took off again. 

Steve closed their eyes, figured they would be getting a light foundation, maybe some contour to sharpen their jaw _that_ kinda thing. 

They zoned out, just let the makeup artists do their work. 

“Steve Harrington. Good to meet you.” Steve opened their eyes, was met with _The_ Billy Hargrove.

“Mr. hargrove, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve a very big fan of your work, especially on the most recent Dior campaign, those images were _beautiful_.”

“h, call me Billy. And I _loved_ your work with Jonathan Byers. I think that was about three years ago, now? I’ve been trying to make arrangements to work with you since those were published.”

Steve furrowed their brows. Those pictures featured Steve in a _lot_ of makeup, and lingerie in most of them. Billy was studying their face. 

“Have you done their hair yet?” Steve’s eyes were wide. 

That was the _first time_ they hadn’t been misgendered on a job.

“No, Mr. Hargrove.”

“If you can make it look like they just have it now, I like the kinda of, wild thing that’s happening. And maybe make the gold a little bolder. I really like the look.”

Steve hadn’t washed their hair in a few days, usually the hair artists would wash it before they began anyway. 

Billy smiled at them one last time before leaving again, and Steve got a look at themself in the mirror. 

Their eye makeup was a pretty ballet pink, gold glitter packed onto their eyelids. Their face was contoured to look _feminine_ , the way the did their _own_ makeup. 

When they finished with hair and makeup, they met Billy in wardrobe. 

He was flicking through a rack of clothes. 

“Hey! You look _great_.” Steve flushed.

“So, what are you comfortable in? I’m looking to explore humanity in all forms. I’m working with artists that inspire me through their realities. You’re pretty much the _top_ of that list.”

“Wait, I’m not following.”

“Your gender identity and expression, the way you wear your body in the _most_ authentic way possible. I’ve seen your work. Those images with Byers are so _beautiful_ , so much moreso than _anything else_ I’ve seen of yours. Your confidence exuded through the image more than anything I’ve ever seen. It was _inspiring_.”

“So, you’re gonna let me do this _my way_?” 

“Of _course_. I’m showcasing _you_ , whatever that means.” Steve nodded at him once. 

They began rifling through the clothes, making a pile of things they liked, what they thought would look good with the makeup.

“And I’m pretty much comfortable with anything.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“Nudity?”

“If you want.”

“Could that cause you any dysphoria, though?” Steve blinked at him.

“Jesus, that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that on a shoot.” Billy’s smile slipped.

“ _Seriously_?” Steve shrugged. “Not even with Byers?”

“Well, I mean, that doesn’t count. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I was just getting into modelling, and him into photography, so that was kind of to build up both of our portfolios at the time. I did my own hair, makeup and costuming.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“But apart from working with a close friend, you’ve _never_ been asked about dysphoria.” Billy said it as a statement, like he was trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“And it’s funny, because I usually get dysphoric in menswear shoots, but most people hire me as a male model.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Steve.” They shrugged. 

“It is what it is. Not a lot of gender noncomforming or just straight up _not cis_ models in the mainstream. There’s a few, don’t get me wrong, but not many, and _very_ few household names. I just figured I need to be versatile _for now_ , and eventually, I’ll have enough of career I can start making demands. Taking up space.”

“Still, it sucks that you gotta pick and choose like that. You should be able to just, do what you want.”

“That’s easy to say, mister photographer.” Billy smiled bashfully. “Look, thank you for taking time to research me and know what I’m all about. This experience has already been _a lot_ better than most of my other shoots.” Billy clapped them on the shoulder. 

“Hey, you’re _my_ muse. I’m just excited to be working with you. I’ll leave you to get changed, we’ve got some wardrobe assistants standing by if you need help.” He swept out of the curtained off area. 

Steve decided to begin with a light blue slip dress, amtching silk panties. 

The had help getting into the gold chunky heels, and made a bit of a show of walking those few feet to set. 

Billy was staring darkly.

“You look _beautiful_.” Steve grinned at him, taking a seat on the white settee. 

Billy was _very_ easy to work with. 

He let Steve take some liberties, try a few things out, and would direct from there, telling Steve how to adjust their body. 

Steve felt in _control_ , felt beautiful and _confident_. 

Steve had taken off the slip, was posing in just the blue panties, now sitting on a windowsill, the New York skyline behind them. 

Steve stood up, and dropped the little panties, kicking them away. Billy nodded, still looking behind the camera.

“Beautiful, Steve.”

They stood in nothing but the heels, had been given a piece of fabric to drape around their body, or _not_ if they so pleased. Steve held it aloft, looking at the camera with their _best_ bitchy _I’m above you_ look. 

Billy had them do the same with six other outfits, slowly strip out of them throughout the shoot. 

The set was closed, only a handful of people in the room with them as Steve languished around. 

Billy nearly _lost_ his damn _mind_ at an image of Steve, their back to the camera, in nothing but red pumps, sitting in a middle split on the windowsill. 

“You’re a fucking _genius_ , Stevie. Gorgeous!”

It was _hours_ before the shoot had finished, Steve given a plush robe and a latte.

“Steve.” Billy jerked his head towards the table in the corner, Billy’s cameras and laptop sitting on top of it. 

Billy pulled another chair up to the table, let Steve sit on the first one.

“I just want to go over the shoot with you. You can pick the shots you like the most, and we can see which ones are right for my project. I’m publishing an art book. I’m _sure_ Miranda already told you, she tells fucking _everyone_.” He had loaded the images from the day onto the laptop. 

The clicked through them, sitting just the two of them, everyone already having left for home. 

“Oh, _wow_.” Billy had stopped on an image of Steve with the large piece of gauzy fabric. It was draped over their shoulder, put hung to the floor, doing _nothing_ to cover their body. “Look at your _face_. _This_ is what I was taking about. The _confidence_ , you just exude _don’t fuck with me_ energy. It’s _beautiful_.” 

Billy would often do that, point out minute details in Steve’s body language or facial expressions and explain the ways they were captivating. 

Ad it made Steve _feel_ captivating. 

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Steve was _far too_ aware of how close Billy’s face was to theirs.

“I really felt it today. Thank you.”

“You are _ethereal_. I’m not kidding.” Billy’s eyes flicked down to their lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“ _Please.”  
_

Steve sighed when Billy kissed them, just a light press of his lips to theirs. 

“I’d like to see you again. Cook you dinner? Or take you out? You pick.” Steve sat back.

“Like a _date_?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna _date me_?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you wanted to work with me?”

“I wanted to work with you because you are so beautiful it’s _inspiring_. I want to date you because on top of all that, you’re kind, and sweet, and driven.”

“Um, _yeah_ , then. I’ll go on a date with you.” Billy _beamed_. “But I _don’t_ put out on the first date, and just because you photographed me naked does _not mean_ you get to fuck me anytime soon.”

“Oh, of _course_.” He looked serious. It made Steve melt a little. 

“And I’d _love it_ if you cooked for me.”

“Then my place. Friday. Seven o’clock. Wear something nice. I may not be able to resist photographing you.”

“Yeah, _yeah_ , Sweet Talker. I’m allergic to bell peppers and I think mushrooms are gross, so steer clear.”

“ _Drat_. There goes my idea for mushroom stuffed bell peppers.”

“ _Darn._ Looks like we can’t go out, then.” Billy laughed. 

“I’ll text you my address. And my house will be properly de-mushroom and bell peppered for you.” Steve smiled.

“I appreciate it.”


	13. Request: Model Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey! so first off! i love all your nonbinary femme steve writings! they make me feel super comfy and valid as an enby bby. second! what about a sequel to model nb steve (but instead of smut bcs ick) what if steve was having a bad day and got misgendered at a shoot. and what if he was trying to explain to the photographers nd the people in hair in makeup “um, im not a he” but none of them listen so they get SUPER upset and uncomfortable and what if by the time the shoots over, he just races over to billys apartment/mansion (bcs bigtime photographer) and steve just runs in without knocking almost in tears whispering “im not a guy” over and over again and billy just pulls them close and cuddles up with them to try and help poor stevie out.
> 
> sorry this turned angsty quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy’s artbook meant _business_ for Steve. 

It ended up featuring a _lot_ of pictures of Steve, and many photographers and designers ended up seeing the images, getting Steve in for shoots. They had all of a sudden become _much_ more well-known, and with Billy’s encouragement, had begun taking up space in their own job, asking those they work with to use the right pronouns, and trying not to be anxious about correcting someone. 

But it was still a challenge. 

Posting something on Instagram about their gender identity and expression didn’t mean every shoot director and photographer would actually _see it_ , let alone _care_. 

And Steve should’ve _known_ this shoot was gonna be _rough_ when they were presented with a rack of men’s cut suits.

But they grit their teeth, and got dressed.

“I need more light on his left side!” The photographer wasn’t as well known as Billy, but had apparently made a name for himself recently working with Tyra Banks for Italian Vogue. 

Steve closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. 

They got back to it, trying to tune _everything_ out.

And then one of the lighting rigs fell, and the bulb shattered _everywhere_. 

The shoot was on hold, and Steve was sent to wait in makeup. They couldn’t sit down, couldn’t risk wrinkling the suit, so they stood next to the chair, and thought about calling Billy. 

The photographer smiled at them.

“How’s it going? Do you need anything?” They smiled back.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” They bit their bottom lip. “But, um, could you please not use _he_ to refer to me? I go by _they_ or _them_.” 

It was almost _comical_ , in a really fucking sad way, how _quickly_ the smile just, slid off his face.

“Oh _God_. You’re one of _those_.”

_“Excuse me?”  
_

“Seriously. This generation with the coddling and the _be whoever you want to be_ bullshit. It’s _infuriating_.” Steve just blinked, didn’t know what in the _fuck_ was going on. “You’re a fucking _guy_. Just deal with it.”

“I think we’re finished for today.” Their hands shook as they undid their tie.

“You can’t just _leave_! You’ve got a contract.”

“A contract that clearly states that I have the right to leave a shoot with partial loss if I am forced into a situation I am uncomfortable with,” they threw down the suit jacket, “or morally opposed to. I am uncomfortable working in a situation where I am disrespected and I morally disagree with _everything_ you’ve said.” They were unbuttoning the patterned shirt, tossed that as his feet too. 

“I can make _sure_ you never work again!” Steve laughed, laughed _right_ in his fucking _face_.

“Call my agency if you’ve got a problem with me.” They took a step closer to him. “And since you know _nothing_ about me, let me let you in on something. I am dating one of the most _well-known_ photographers in the _world_ right now. I can make it so _you_ never work again.”

“Oh _please_. You don’t have _any_ connections. You’re _bluffing_.” Steve just silently raise their phone. The lock screen was a selfie they took, themself sitting on Billy’s lap. They were both smiling all cute at the camera, Billy’s arms _tight_ around them. 

“That’s Billy Hargrove. Eat a dick.”

They grabbed their bag off the makeup table, kicking off the expensive shoes before stomping out of the room. 

-

They were running a _real_ adrenaline high as they hailed a cab, giving Billy’s address. 

Their heart was _hammering_ against their rips, and it felt like their stomach had turned to liquid. 

Billy’s doorman knew Steve at this point, let them in with a smile they could barely return. 

It felt like the elevator was moving _extra slow_ before they were deposited in front of Billy’s penthouse door, and banging on it with all their strength. 

Billy’s brows were furrowed when he answered the door.

Steve gave a sob, collapsing into his arms. 

“Holy _shit_ , Baby. What happened?”

“I’m _not_ a guy.” Billy ran a hand through their hair, still sticky with product. 

“No, you’re _not_. I know that, Sugar.” He scooped them up, laying down on the large sofa, holding Steve close to his chest. 

“I’m not a guy.”

“You’re not a guy.” 

They both kept up that mantra, repeating that to one another again and again until Steve’s body had stopped shaking. 

“You okay to talk?”

“Photographer said I’m a guy and that I need to learn to deal with that fact.” Billy made an angry sound in the back of his throat. 

“He _said that?”  
_

“He said some other shit too about how this generation invented nonbinary people, or whatever, and that he’s gonna make it so I never work again.”

“Oh, he does _not know_ who he’s _dealing with_. One fucking tweet, and he’s _dead_ as a photographer. He’ll be stuck shooting Ann Coulter and Rosanne Barr for Fascist Monthly.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“But I mean, what if he calls my agency? Gets me fired? I broke my contract.”

“I helped you draft your contract, you had a right to break it, _and_ you’re still owed at least 60% of what you would’ve gotten for the whole day.”

“But what if-”

“Stevie, listen to me.” They huffed. “It’s gonna be _fine_. You get fired over this, and we’ll sue for discrimination or some shit. Put out another artbook of you being your beautiful self with the settlement money.” They laughed into Billy’s chest. “You’re not gonna get fired, Sweet Thing. You’re gonna be _fine_. And that piece of shit is just that, a transphobic piece of total _shit_. He doesn’t get a say in your life. You are an amazing, passionate, talented, _wonderful_ nonbinary person. Don’t let him take anything from you.”

“It’s _hard_ sometimes, though. I start to wonder if I really _am_ faking it all.” Billy shifted Steve around, making them look him in the eye.

“You are _not_ faking it. You hear me? No matter what _anyone_ says.” Steve was quiet. “Say it.”

“I’m not faking.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m _not_ faking.”

“With your chest!”

“I’m _not_ faking!”

“No, you’re _not!”_ Steve was grinning now, leaned up on Billy’s chest to look him in the eye. 

“No, I’m not!”


End file.
